Unadvised
by confusingtimelessnessandtime
Summary: What if the dragon was freed before Merlin knew of its existence? Merlin is left with no knowledge of his destiny, only a job with a prattish prince and magic he doesn't know how to use. Series AU.
1. Prologue

**This may not last very long, but I'm going to attempt to put a new spin on some Merlin episodes. I had a lot of questions, and answering them seemed like fun. What would happen if the dragon hadn't been there to advise him? What would some of Merlin's decisions been, and what other changes might have happened if Arthur heard about what his father had done and become secretly pro-magic? I'm already partially done the first episode, which is not a simple transcription but something I'm attempting to work on my story-telling with. This is more of a prologue than a first chapter, and it isn't the style I will be using for the other chapters.**

 **I enjoy the title Unadvised, which can describe an action as both something reckless and something uninformed. This is exactly what Merlin will be, for now.**

Arthur watched the dragon fly away, not certain whether he was proud of or horrified at what he had just done. It may have promised never to harm the kingdom he would one day rule, but he had learnt the truth of its imprisonment only the night before, and he doubted that it would not seek revenge. He had to admit to himself that he would, in its place.

At dinner the previous night, his father had spoken for the first time in a long time about his purge of magic-users. Arthur had been growing uneasy about the standard methods of testing for magic - drowning, burning, hanging, beheading - and seeing this, Uther had added that he did keep one magical prisoner still. The last dragon, he had said proudly, remained in the caverns below the castle, where it could not whisper its poisons to anyone.

This was the part he had found most alarming. The creature was capable of speech and thought, but had been tricked into believing that it could live in peace and had come to hear Uther's apology and penance. His father had instead killed the last dragonlord, and had forged chains and dug a cavern underneath his own castle to keep the last dragon captive. It was a trick that Cenred seemed capable of, and one he had previously believed Camelot was above.

Arthur had then consulted Gaius, the elderly court physician who had seen all of this supposed justice and the time of magic before it, asking for the truth. He had been hesitant to share his true thoughts on the events of nearly twenty years ago, but once he had seen that Arthur was serious, he had given a brief summary of Uther's purge and explained the reasons behind it.

He had been absolutely shocked by the news, though looking back at small things his father had said and done, he knew that he shouldn't have been. Arthur had known for years that his father wasn't as merciful or just as he'd like to believe, but he had not expected his own unwitting role in what he now supposed was a slaughter. His father had made an enchantress cast a spell to give him an heir, and when the consequences he had refused to hear of proved too much, he had blamed anything but himself. Witches, warlocks, sorcerers, dragonlords, and all magical creatures from pixies to dragons were to be killed on sight or tested for magic in brutal ways.

Arthur had had no idea what to think. Thanking Gaius, who cautioned him against opposing his father, he had left in a haze of misery and shock, remaining in his chambers for much of the next day and behaving less than civilly towards the king's ward, Morgana, when she had stopped by to talk. He could remember nothing that left him as conflicted as this news had.

The next night, after declining to dine with Uther and claiming to be ill, he had walked beyond the dungeons. Arthur didn't know where this cavern could be, but he hardly believed after Uther's boasting that there would be sufficient guards, and there were few paths outside of the cells. He grabbed a torch from the wall to carry with him for light.

The cavern holding the dragon was empty, and for a single, tense moment, he had thought that someone might have gone to free the dragon first. He wouldn't have put it past Morgana, who had been so outraged that night at dinner that she had left the table.

The dragon, after an intensely dramatic pause, had flown up to a nearby perch in an array of dull gold scales and bronze claws. Arthur had not missed the clinking of thick chains around its nearest claw, and its gold eyes had not missed the sword hanging in his scabbard that he made no attempt to touch. In a voice that seemed centuries old, it had asked him if he had come to gloat as his father had.

Those words were what finally cemented in his mind that the dragon had to be freed. The moonlight filtering through to light the rocks eerily had to come from somewhere, and the fetters clearly had a purpose. He had asked it if it could escape, if released from its chains.

The dragon had watched him with a surprise that seemed foreign on such a reptilian face and replied that the only thing that could break its chains was a sword forged in a dragon's breath. It obviously mistrusted him, and he had expected no less. This was a test, and Arthur had to trust in magic before anything magical could trust him.

He had laid down his sword, stood with no weapons, and listened as it advised him on the ways immortal swords could be misused. He no longer had any intention of killing magical creatures with it, and he could imagine well the sort of power it could wield in the hands of the merciless. After he had nodded respectfully, it had told him to back up out of the cavern.

Arthur watched as the dragon opened its jaws and breathed fire onto his sword, feeling a sudden heat as the passageway illuminated. When it told him that he was safe, he had walked back in and touched the sword's blade quickly, then realised that it was barely warm and and picked it up to examine it. The sword had seemed slightly heavier and had a better balance than it had a few moments previously.

The walk down to the dragon's chains may have been one of the hardest things he had done in his short life. He had been terrified out of his mind of the consequences, but absolutely certain that the action he was taking was right. The thought of what his father might do if he discovered the dragon was free tugged at his mind with every step, making him uneasy but all the more determined.

Arthur had made the dragon swear not to harm Camelot before he struck the chains with his newly-enchanted sword, and it had mentioned something vague and cryptic about its freedom boding well for the future of Albion and Emrys before it had flown up and away.

He stared up at the ceiling after it had gone, wondering if he had dreamed the last few hours. It all seemed too absurd to have really happened, no matter that the dragon's tail had only disappeared a few moments ago. He had freed the Great Dragon.

Deciding that he would rather not be implicated if the dragon was seen, he sheathed the sword and left the cavern quietly.

The next morning, he dined with Uther and said nothing at all on the subject.


	2. 1x01 - The Dragon's Silence pt 1

Merlin stared in dismay at the scaffold. Over the people in front of him, he caught glimpses of the man being led to it; a shorter man who looked as though he were trying not to be terrified. He tried to see how the watching crowd felt about this, but a glance revealed no sympathy for the sentenced man.

He may have been unfamiliar with Camelot's customs, but he was more than familiar with its laws and with the concept of execution. The drums, the hooded executioner, the axe glinting in the light of a cloudy day were enough to make him freeze in his place at the edge of the crowd.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all," declared a man from the balcony. He was, from the crown on his head to the rich clothes and chainmail he wore, every inch a king, and unmistakably King Uther. There was a note of disgust in his voice.

"This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass."

The king raised one arm, and the part of Merlin that wasn't fearing his own execution wondered how many times that fair and just hand had presided over the death of someone like him. At his hand, the axe came down.

Many in the crowd gasped or flinched. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman who had been watching from the castle turn away, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the scaffold. The man's head had come off cleanly in one stroke, which was merciful for an axe, and was lying in a basket. His body still knelt at the block.

"When I came to this land, the kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm," King Uther announced, ignorant of Merlin's attempts to keep himself in place and not run back towards the gates and home. He hadn't expected to miss Ealdor so quickly. It was already taking everything he had to pretend he wasn't affected by the scene in front of him.

"So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin."

Merlin forced his breathing to slow, hoping that his rapid heartbeat would follow suit. The crowd was beginning to disperse around him as an old woman started wailing with grief, and as others drew back, he took half a step forwards with vague, ill-advised plans to silence and comfort her. As she began to speak, he stopped, terrified of being executed for conspiracy as the man in front of him had been.

"There is only one evil in this land," she lamented, gazing up at the king with a deep pain in her eyes, "and it is not magic! It is you! With your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son! And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, _a son for a son."_

"Seize her," King Uther commanded, pointing a gloved finger at her. He looked somewhat alarmed.

The old woman clutched her necklace and whispered words that Merlin had never heard before, creating a whirlwind that swirled around her and disappeared. She was gone, leaving only a few tattered scraps of clothing and her son's body, likely to be buried in an unmarked grave later that day.

Merlin looked to his left to exchange a glance before remembering that his only friend was days away from Camelot. He wished with a sudden ache that Will were here, or that he had something he recognised to hold onto.

Everything was strange and hostile to him, from the white stones castle to the mortal danger he was already convinced would be constant. Agreeing to Camelot had been one of the worst ideas Merlin had had, and he would surely pay for it dearly. His mother thought that this would be the place to learn to control himself, to learn more about why he had been given these gifts. Merlin hated to disappoint her, but he knew already that it was only a matter of time until he died in the citadel he was standing in.

As the crowd moved hurriedly away, he collected himself and left the courtyard quickly. He supposed he was an idiot for heading straight into the castle, but all he had were the directions his mother had given him and the pack on his back. His mother had promised that Gaius was sympathetic to those with magic, but he had no plans to reveal his gift to anyone, especially after the scene he had just witnessed. He asked a guard for directions, and was on his way.

.

Merlin knocked hesitantly on the door, then peeked inside. "Hello?" he said, in case someone might have heard him, taking a few steps into the room and leaving the door open behind him in his awe.

Everything in the room was foreign and wonderful to him. There was food in abundance on a table nearby, as well as a well-used cauldron and what might have been chainmail. Strange contraptions hung from the absurdly high ceiling, and mysterious potions bubbled. It smelled of woodsmoke, herbs, and the forest he had travelled through.

"Hello?" Merlin called again, looking around for the court physician he had assumed would be in. On the rickety balcony, an old man in a long robe was checking something on a shelf. "Gaius?"

Merlin cleared his throat, preparing to speak louder and wondering if the man was half-deaf. The man turned at the noise, thankfully not trusting his weight to the obviously unsteady railing. "What do you need, boy?"

"I'm looking for Gaius, the court physician," he answered, trying and failing to judge the man by his first words. He seemed businesslike and to-the-point, certainly, but there was no way to accurately guess what he might do upon finding out about Merlin's magic.

He nodded, then started to descend the stairs with surprisingly precise steps. "I am he."

"I'm Merlin," he said uncertainly, wondering for a moment if it was all some terrible mistake and taking off his pack to search for the letter his mother had written. "I have this letter..."

"Hunith's son?" Gaius asked, evidently delighted. His mother hadn't been exaggerating their affection for each other, then. "Is it Wednesday? I'm afraid I had nearly forgotten you were coming. You can put your bag in the room back there."

Merlin, having found the letter, gave it to Gaius. Turning to face the rest of the circular room, he walked over to the door he had indicated, exhilarated with the thought that he actually had a door for privacy. With the joy of a child, he opened it.

"I'm sorry about the smell," Gaius added from behind him as he coughed, sounding more amused than apologetic. "It was a storage cupboard for herbs and spare blankets and such, and I haven't had the chance to air it out properly yet. There's a window."

The room itself was small and stunk of herbs, but it had walls, a door, and a window, which was much better than camping in the woods as he had been doing. "Thank you," Merlin called, fumbling with the window latch with hands that still shook and breathing through his neckerchief.

He was sure he heard Gaius laughing at him.

.

Footsteps echoed down the hall towards her, a draft coming through the opened doors. "Morgana," Uther greeted her, drawing nearer.

"Yes?" Morgana asked, keeping as civil a tone as she could bear and turning from the window. She noted his frown, wondering but not particularly caring what had disturbed him.

"What is this? Why are you not joining us at the feast?"

It was hardly protocol to wear a crown to feasts, but Morgana didn't think that he would pass up a chance to show his superiority over every other guest. It was detestable that he would feast while the body of the man he had condemned grew cold.

She took a step towards him and lifted her chin. "I just don't think chopping someone's head off is cause for celebration."

Uther sighed, as if she were a child speaking out of turn. It infuriated her sometimes, how blind he could be to his own people, but she resolved not to shout. "That poor mother," she murmured instead, glancing out at the darkening sky and wondering if compassion was something he could feel after all these years.

"It was simple justice for what he had done," he snapped, as if it were perfectly acceptable to persecute a group of people who were, on the whole, innocent.

"To whom?" she demanded, facing him and giving up any semblance of calm and rationality. It made her furious to know that the worst criminal in the land was on the throne and loved by his people, even after all the murders he had committed. She still remembered watching the smoke rise from the citadel as a child. "He practiced some magic, he didn't hurt anyone."

"You were not around twenty years ago; you have _no idea_ what it was like," he said lowly, obviously at the edge of his patience.

Morgana shook her head, dismissing his point. She knew better than most, after years of living in the castle and watching him sentence people who had tried to save lives to be executed. A few years ago, she had realised that Uther couldn't have believed that magic-users were inherently evil; he had needed a scapegoat.

"How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?" she asked, barely aware that the words had slipped out until he snapped at her.

"Until they realise there is no room for magic in my kingdom!" Uther met her gaze with something raw and dangerous, and warned her quietly, "You _will_ be there when I greet Lady Helen."

"I told you, I want no part in these celebrations!" she protested, knowing already that it was futile but refusing to give up without a fight. She had a dim recollection of concerts that dragged on and slipping out to talk with Arthur, and though she had nothing against the woman herself, Lady Helen was quickly becoming a symbol of rebellion against Uther.

"I'm your guardian!" he exclaimed, stepping towards her. His face looked malevolent, lit by the sunset on one side and candlelight on the other. "I expect you to do as I ask. If you show me no respect, at least respect our finest singer."

He turned and stalked away, cape billowing at his heels, leaving Morgana alone at the windowpane. "You know, the more brutal you are, the more enemies you will create!" she called after him, indignant.

Morgana weighed her options quickly before deciding that her point had been made and that there would be more serious consequences than a few days of sullen glances if she continued. She had half a plan to cause a stir formulated already, though it required some help from her maidservant.

The black look she had been directing at the door Uther had exited through grew to a decidedly wicked smirk.

.

"I got you water," Gaius said reproachfully the next morning as Merlin stumbled down the stairs, not quite awake yet. "You didn't wash last night."

Merlin glanced up at him, then down at the washbasin. There was something odd in his eyes, and he wished he knew him better so that he could decipher it. "Sorry."

"Help yourself to breakfast," Gaius invited him, and sat down with him at the table as he tried not to make a face at the absolutely disgusting meal he had just been served. "I hope you will shed some light on something in your mother's letter to me."

The boy lifted his head, eyes wide, but Gaius could not make out what he was thinking for the life of him. He seemed almost scared. "What did she say?"

"That you were special and very different from most, and that you needed guidance," he replied, watching his face closely for any change. There was none, yet, though Merlin was clearly hanging on his every word for some piece of information. "This would be nothing unusual, had she not closed the letter by asking God to save us both."

His shoulders stiffened, though his face didn't change. The pale hand holding his spoon was shaking slightly. "That _is_ unusual."

Gaius nodded gravely, and leaned across the table to look directly into the boy's eyes. "Do you have any idea why that may be? I'm not going to press you," he added, at the badly-disguised look of panic on his face, "but if there is something I should know that you haven't told me yet -"

"There's nothing special about me," Merlin denied, a bit too loudly to be normal, waving his spoon defensively. "I don't know why she would close any letter that way."

"Alright," he said lightly, but his suspicions had grown. Merlin was a terrible liar, and it couldn't be clearer that this secret of his was something he didn't want to talk about. Moving on instead, he said, "Well, we had better keep you out of trouble. You can help me until I find some paid work for you. Here," he added, placing a small, dark pouch, then a corked bottle om the table. "Hollyhock and feverfew for Lady Percival, and this is for Sir Olwin. He's as blind as a weevil, so warn him not to take it all at once."

Shaking off the momentary fear of - what, discovery? - and pushing his plate of watery porridge away from him, Merlin nodded. "Okay."

"And here," Gaius added, deciding to be merciful and handing him the sandwich he had already made. With a laugh, Merlin took it from him and snatched the medicine from the table. "Off you go. And Merlin?"

Already at the door, he turned around to face him completely. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him in warning. "I need hardly tell you to be careful."

His eyes betrayed his panic at the words, but a moment later he was nodding cheerfully and heading out to greet the city.

.

Gwen, upon hearing her plan, was less than pleased. "Milady, don't you think that the wisest thing would be to stay out of his way? Fighting him on everything is... inadvisable."

"Likely to get me locked up in a cell, you mean?" Morgana inquired, and scowled. "I'd rather there than be like Arthur. He's so self-righteous, it makes me sick to look at him sometimes."

Gwen huffed out a laugh as she wrestled the curtains down from around her bed. "I can respect that he thinks he is doing what needs to be done, milady."

Morgana set down her hairbrush, a present from some distant king who hadn't known how useless it would be. A row of similar, intricately designed brushes and combs lay in her drawer, unused. "He's a bully and a coward, Gwen."

She frowned, shaking back hair that had fallen in her face. "He may be a bully sometimes, but he certainly isn't a coward. He hasn't been picking on his servant as much lately either, has he?"

"Poor Morris," Morgana sighed, ignoring her.

Gwen lowered the curtain out of the window carefully, and her back straightened suddenly, pulling at the laces in the back of her bodice. "See? He's with Morris right now, and - oh."

She shook her head dismissively. "You're too sweet, Gwen. There may be good in him, but it's buried deep beneath layers of insecurity and a need to feel superior. I can't _believe_ we're expected to marry soon. I'm surprised Uther hasn't publicly declared his support of the match yet," she added thoughtfully, before brushing the thought aside. "I'm sure he's waiting for something, and then he's going to announce our marriage to the five kingdoms without consulting with either of us. It would be just like him."

"Oh," said Gwen in surprise, then again in anticipated pity. "Oh..."

"What is it?" Morgana asked from her dressing table, watching Gwen attempt to beat the curtain and watch the scene at the same time.

Gwen shook her hair back again, the white sky illuminating every strand out of place. "Someone stepped in to help Morris. He seems young - our age, not a child - and he's wearing a kerchief around his neck. He's cute, too, if you like cheekbones like that and ears that size. He just held out his hand for Arthur to shake. I don't think he knows who Arthur is, milady."

"Don't bother with titles, what is he doing to this poor, adorable boy?"

She glanced over her shoulder to exchange glances with Morgana and laughed a bit, then turned back to the scene and winced. "He's trying to walk away, but Arthur's goading him. This doesn't look like it'll turn out well. He's practically inviting the poor boy to attack him -" she gasped, then sighed sympathetically.

Morgana stood, trying to see around Gwen. "What has Arthur done?"

"The boy tried to punch Arthur, and he got his arm twisted behind his back. He's shoving him to his knees, and - now the guards have got hold of him!"

"Do you still approve of him?" Morgana asked bitterly, and Gwen gave her a reproachful look as she brought in the curtains.

"It's not a question of approval. He's the prince," she reminded Morgana as she put the curtains up again, careful not to let them brush the floor. "It's his arm you'll be on at the feast."

Morgana sat down again, grimacing at the hairbrush she had left sitting on the desk. "Don't remind me."

.

When Gwen next saw the boy with the kerchief, she was starting her shopping in the marketplace and some poor unfortunate was in the stocks. It took her a moment to realise which poor unfortunate this was, and much longer to get up the nerve to talk to a perfect stranger.

"I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen," she started with, nervous as she always was with new and unfamiliar people. He turned his head towards her as much as he was able, and she tactfully ignored the bits of fruit in his hair slowly dripping down the sides of his face. "I'm the Lady Morgana's maid.

"Right," he replied cheerfully, "I'm Merlin." And, to her surprise, he wiggled his arm as far into the stocks as he could manage and shook her hand as he had tried to do with Arthur. Seeming to remember this, he grimaced. "Although, most people just call me Idiot."

"No, no, no, I saw what you did," Gwen protested, disheartened by the idea that there was no one in the world who dared stand up to the prince, damn the consequences. "It was so brave.

Merlin shook his head. "It was stupid."

"Well, I'm glad you walked away," she admitted, shaking her head as well. "You weren't going to beat him."

She shouldn't have been surprised that he took offense to this comment; her brother had always taken those sorts of remarks as personal challenges. Merlin snorted. "Oh, I- I can beat him."

With a glance at the scrawny arms locked in the stocks clutching his sleeve like a child and the legs swimming in large trousers beneath it, Gwen said hesitantly, "You think? Because you don't look like one of these big, muscle-y kind of fellows."

"Thanks," Merlin said, looking all the way up at her in a way that probably hurt his neck to do. He looked almost betrayed.

Gwen immediately felt awful for what she had said. "No! No, I'm sure you're stronger than you look. It's just, erm..." she struggled to find inoffensive words to explain herself. "Arthur's one of these real rough-tough-save-the-world kind of men, and... well..."

"What?" he asked, as if he genuinely didn't get it.

Wincing at what she was about to say, she admitted, "You don't look like that."

He glanced around, as if searching for eavesdroppers, then motioned her in closer. When she bent to hear him, he whispered, "I'm in disguise."

Gwen hesitated a moment, wondering why he truly seemed to believe that he could fight Arthur, then laughed. "Well, it's great you stood up to him.

"What? You think so?" Merlin asked, and _wow,_ she had _not_ been prepared for the genuine smile that lit up his entire face. Keeping that piece of information inside, she allowed herself to watch him laugh a little longer.

"Arthur's a bully, and everyone thought you were a real hero," she complimented him. Morgana certainly had seemed to, and she had overheard a few of the maids giggling about the boy who made Prince Arthur look like a fool.

A cocky grin spread across his face, and Gwen cursed herself for giving him justification to keep letting himself be thrown into cells and pelted with produce. Someone needed to tell Arthur when enough was enough, she reasoned with herself, and this boy was the only one brave or foolish enough. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mm-hmm," she replied, nodding.

Merlin glanced away from her suddenly, into the crowd of people approaching a short distance away. She followed his gaze to the children holding more rotten fruit in baskets. "Oh," he said haltingly, not looking as though the stocks were any particular sort of punishment or humiliation, "excuse me, Guinevere. My fans are waiting."

She laughed again, and hurried away as he ducked his head against the onslaught of fruit.


End file.
